I am beautiful.
I am kind, I am sincere. I am not princess perfect body, face, hair. I used to envy that, but turned out I only envied a combination of luck, makeup, and money. None of which I had particularly much of. None of which I needed.
It hurt to be told, in so many words, You are ugly.
But it wasn’t about not having luck and makeup. I didn’t think I was beautiful, because of ugly whispers. Because I didn’t have “real” love. Because I was stupid for wanting my relationships acknowledged when they weren’t even true relationships. “Why do you need people to know who you’re sleeping with?” I absolutely didn’t, so I thought, perhaps they’re right. Why do I need to let people know? Only a piece of me did. But because I wanted to be with a woman, as a woman- or, heaven forbid, with multiple women- I was supposed to stay quiet. I was strange, odd, undesirable, unworthy. Nobody needed to see that.
…but underground?
Here, in the many communities, I was seen. Admired, loved, liked. I was good. Among friends who I met at most half naked, sometimes fully so. I felt safe for the first time. The sluttier the better; I even feel I disappoint by not being slutty enough. To these people, I am “cool” as a semi cis, semi nonbinary, gender questioning, queer, poly, bisexual person. Practically a badge of honor to be the “weird one.” Huh. How rather flattering. Here, I am beautiful.
I am more than beautiful; I am grateful.
I am kind, I am sincere. I am not princess perfect body, face, hair. But I am sexy, sensual, worthy, wonderful. I am everything to my master, and quite a lot to many others. I am not only good enough, I am better than enough.